TGivin', come and gone

This is part one of the Petro family Thanksgiving. This year, it's a week-long adventure in one house, during which thirteen members of the family eat, sleep and play together. Like a Thanksgiving camp, if you will.


Oh, the only time of year I truly wait for. And actually, once Thanksgiving is over, what's left of the year? My scrooge-y side comes out in anticipation of Christmas, the presents and the pressures. At least there are the food and family memories of Thanksgiving carrying over into the terrible rush of December.

This year we spent Thanksgiving at my parents' house in Maryland. I was a little sad about not having another warm and sunny holiday in southern California, but after arriving to an unlikely and mild 60 degrees in Appalachia, I unpacked my shades and bikini.

Kidding. At least we could wear t-shirts and still have warm arms.

We started the holiday week early this year, and by the Monday before Thanksgiving most of the extended family had already arrived. Impressed? I don't know that many families who take it as seriously as we do. If we didn't all get there in ample time before the actual Thursday, everything would be thrown off entirely and Thanksgiving could disappear in the dark mist. Something like that.

Pre-game: Making the giant list for food shopping is actually a fun event for us. We strategize, whilst sipping rum and Coke. Fancy, it is. After a trip to the grocery store for meal #1, the fridge was already packed tight. We started an area in the garage for overflow.


And Dad set up the brand-new turkey fryer.

We all expressed concern over this monstrous electric-potential-fire-disaster, but at the same time, all were intrigued by the golden, crispy, juicy possibilities. My journalist friend, Angie, sent me safety tips after having written numerous news articles about Thanksgiving fires caused by turkey fryers.

Where would we fry the turkey? Outdoors was the vote, but Dad, who is the tallest and eldest, decided on the garage.

Okay.

Some eating highlights before the big day round up as follows:

- Auntie Merribeth's spaghetti and meatballs with cousin Mike's garlic bread
- Fish tacos with Uncle Andy's rice and beans
- Christine's Butternut Squash Soup



By Wednesday, we had already eaten to the point of having to roll from point A to B. Where was the time for exercise when we had desserts to plan and card games to play? Thus, the night of butternut squash soup. This recipe can be adjusted to behold a nice, spicy kick if you're feeling dangerously squashy. It has been adapted from several like recipes.

Butternut Squash Soup

1-2 Butternut squash, depending on the size of your crowd
Vegetable broth, heated
Heavy cream or milk
Nutmeg, ground
Honey
Fresh thyme
Cinnamon, ground
Cayenne pepper, ground

1. Peel, seed and cube the squash. Boil until soft in large pot.

2. Puree squash in batches in food processor or blender with vegetable broth, adding just a little heavy cream or milk as you go. Return puree to pot.

3. To taste, add nutmeg, thyme, cinnamon, cayenne pepper and honey to the puree. The more cayenne, the better the spicy bite! Keep to a simmer, letting the spices meld to the squash puree.

4. Adjust spices as necessary. When tasty, serve!

More food and fun to follow. We're only up to the night before Thanksgiving!

Sardinian Sanguinaccio

Enjoy this edge-of-your-seat guest post from fellow foodie and author, Joe Dunthorne. And look out for his first novel, Submarine, available in the U.S. from Random House this spring!

Sebastiano tells me, in tentative English, that the next course is going to be a surprise. Then, turning to the other guests, a young Italian family, he describes the cooking process in mellifluous Italian. I watch his hand movements for clues: his arm stirs the air, he makes a crumbling action with his finger tips, he draws his hand down his own chest as though unzipping a jacket. The family coo and nod.

Sebastiano looks lupine, I think: his long arms covered in wiry black hair, his fine, arched nose and a pack-hunter’s poise to his mannerisms. Although I understand very little of what he is saying, there is one word that sticks out: “Coaguli.”

When Sebastiano disappears in to the kitchen, the mother of the Italian family looks adoringly at me – as if I am a charming idiot. She has seen me eating pistachio nuts on the terrace and thinks this is the limit of my culinary appreciation.

Sebastiano returns with two very large bowls of hot slightly-lumpy soup. The smell is subtle and familiar. It’s the colour of raspberry jam.

He places the bowls in the middle of the table. My first guess is that we have been presented with pots of steaming blood.

Leading by example, the youngest son of the family – a nine-year-old boy who always takes a glass of grappa with his meal – digs in first, spreading the thick liquid on to a piece of flat bread.

Sebastiano still thinks I have no idea. He thinks I am expecting Heinz Tomato Soup.

Watching the boy take a bite, I see a dribble of gore run down his chin. Soon enough, the whole family are tucking in. Ruby-coloured stains, like badly-applied lipstick, all around their mouths. The napkins are making me think of the last time I had a nosebleed.

I think this must be blood. It looks like blood. It smells like blood. It’s the colour of blood. It’s blood.

I remind myself that, firstly, I came to Sardinia with just this sort of anecdote-friendly gourmandism in mind. And that, secondly, I adore black pudding.

Drifting in to a mental state of perfect calm and total disengagement, I spoon the blood on to the flat bread. I am slightly disturbed by the lumps, I might even call them clots. I try to remain Zen-like, distanced, watching myself through the eyes of the elk’s head mounted on the wall.

I see that Sebastiano is watching me too: eager – smiling – his teeth stained red.

Since I have loved every thing Sebastiano has cooked so far, and since I have little or no choice in the matter, I take a faux-confident bite. I expect my eyes to roll back, fangs to replace my incisors and hair to sprout on the the palms of my hand. Instead, there is the recognisably rich but subtle flavour of – yes – blood, but also onion (the lumps) and mint.

I have to take a few bites before I can really decide whether I like it or not. Sebastiano watches for my reaction. I smile at him. I imagine the blood on my teeth. He is pleased.

As I relax in to the idea of eating blood, a memory returns to me. I remember, at school, the time when I cut my finger on the point of a compass. All the other kids got lollipops as they walked home, while I sucked on my index finger.

Once the sanguinaccio is finished, the youngest son draws a smiley face in blood on his plate. Sebastiano tells me that he also crumbles his home-made pecorino in to the mix. The blood had come from one of his own lambs. The word Sanguinaccio translates literally as Bad Blood.

I later learned that it is now illegal for blood to be sold in butchers. The blood has to be very fresh – eaten within twenty-four hours – so they only way to guarantee freshness is to kill the animal yourself.

The other great Sardinian delicacy is named Casu Marzu – known locally as Maggot Cheese: a kind of pecorino where fly larvae have been deliberately introduced. The cheese moves beyond fermentation towards decomposition. The digestive action of the larvae breaks down the cheese fats, leaving a very soft texture, liquid in parts. Depending on their bravery, Sardinians eat the cheese with or without the accompanying white worms. Wikipedia notes that the worms can jump up to fifteen centimetres in the air. Eye protection is advised.

With love and spice, from Korea

A food story from my sister, who is teaching English in Korea this year. While reading this, you'll feel your tastebuds burning with heat. And you will laugh, too.

Dear Christine,

When we went to Gyeongju, on holiday, we ate at a restaurant that was something of a shack. The woman that owned it was rambunctious; she ordered us all in (we might have been one of her only customers for the night). We sat down, we tried to order, but she told us what she was making. She told us it would be hot, and she wasn't exaggerating on that one: IT WAS THE HOTTEST FOOD THAT I'VE EVER EATEN!

It was a red noodle dish. The sides were interesting: slightly pickled cabbage and sausage, and old, old kimchi - which can be normal - the older the kimchi, some believe, the better. We drank makgeli, a fermented rice wine, which is normally good, but this might have been old; we felt ourselves grow increasingly drunk on both the spice and the wine. My mouth was on fire, Kristin looked like she might pass out, Anthony was trying to play tough guy, and somehow Todd and John ate the whole bowl of unidentifiable hot stuff.

The owner kept coming over to us and laughing that we thought it was too hot. She told me to eat faster, to eat it all. We kept asking for water, and she kept laughing, but obliging our wishes. She asked us if we minded the television, we said "no." John asked if she had music since there was a boom box on the table behind us. She turned on Trott Music, Korean music with incredible precision, and she danced. We all danced and clapped our hands. I danced with her, she laughed her laugh.

When we were leaving I told her it was very good, but too spicy, and she told me if I thought that it was good that I would have eaten it. (Anthony translated for me). The next morning I felt terrible.

That was the most severe and strange of our eating experiences.

Love from Korea,
Teresa

Campin' Out

Camping can have a varied food effect.




For example, above is the effect mid-hike after reaching a scenic view, pausing for some PB&J, trail mix, and power bars ... and fruit, and cheese and crackers. And cookies. Campers become napping turtle-people, sunning on a large rock.

Trish had orchestrated a rather impressive camping adventure of 11 people, with both a Philly and a NYC group convening in the wilds of just-outside-of-NYC in Harriman Park.

This event created a food challenge. Camp food forces the cook to reach a new state of simplicity. Every ingredient, method of preparation and cooking utensil must be considered ahead of time. This is hard for me. I enjoy complicated and spontaneous cooking - experimenting for large groups of people with new recipes that have multiple stages of preparation and if possible, hard to find and somewhat mysterious ingredients. Food is flung around the kitchen in a fluster, and everything comes flying out of the cupboard in a time-sensitive search for the springform pan. This is the fun of cooking - doing it in a slight disaster area. Camp cooking, however, needs an uncluttered frame of mind. A strategic approach, if you will.

A good s'more, for instance, requires perfect timing. This is very important or you end up with a nicely toasted marshmallow sandwiched between grahams with a chunk of hard, cold chocolate. We did a fair amount of s'more trial and error on this trip. On the second night, we got it. The bottom layer of graham and chocolate must be warmed and ready to go at the same time that the marshmallow has been toasted to bulging, internally gooey perfection. If you are like Erin and myself, you just want a s'more right away and will do almost anything to get it. You will hover excitedly with marshmallow-on-stick, waiting for the fire to start. But we all became willing to time each element right and eat bare marshmallows in the desperate intervals. The s'more instructions are below.

As far as the actual sustenance, we go beyond s'mores. (Though, I admit nothing is truly beyond the S'more). I don't know where the thought "big pot of chili" came from. I had a sudden vision of warm, big bowls of ... stuff... being eaten by chilled, but happy people circled 'round the campfire. Working my way backwards from that vision, I came up with a way to do camp chili. I think we got it on the first go-round. All it really took was a giant pot, several ziploc freezer bags of diced onions and peppers, crushed tomatoes, beans and rice, and a baggie of various herbs and spices. And, uh, reaching into the cooler for a beer every now and then to add some more liquid to the pot when necessary.




I think people were happy with the outcome.

Now, it is true this was not the kind of meal you could prepare on a true roughin' it type of trip. My camp food skills have not yet evolved to there. We had a grate on the fire, could lug the big pot in our car and bags of ingredients in the cooler. But the meal totally worked for a large group of friends who drove out of the big city for a weekend in the cool and pretty, late-summer woods.


The Best S'more

Marshmallows (lots)
Graham crackers (lots)
Chocolate (lots)

1) Put on headlamp. Find s'more sticks.
2) Make assembly line of all ingredients.
3) Put bottom graham cracker/s and chocolate in pan over fire (not too close) to gradually warm.
4) Begin toasting marshmallow a minute or so later.
5) Get bottom layer of graham and chocolate from pan, place marshmallow on top, and add top layer of graham.
6) Eat best s'more ever.
7) Make another one. Use headlamp to check for inevitable chocolate on face, arms, lap.

Camp Chili

4 cans of beans, multiple varieties (e.g. black, kidney, garbanzo, white)
3 can of crushed tomatoes and their juices
1/2 a bag of rice
1 green bell pepper, diced
1 sweet onion, diced
2 cloves garlic, minced
1 sack of mysterious spices (e.g. chili powder, thyme, basil, oregano, crushed red pepper, salt, pepper)
4-6 cans of beer

1) Put all ingredients in separate ziploc freezer bags (bag of diced vegetables, bag of tomato, bag of beans, etc
2) Pack all camping gear
3) Arrive at campsite and build fire with friends
4) Get out big (giant) pot with lid
5) Saute onions, peppers, and garlic
6) Add 1/2 of spice sack and saute a few minutes more
7) Add tomatoes, rice, the rest of spice sack and 1-2 cans of beer. Put lid on pot and cook, stirring occasionally until rice is done. Add more beer when necessary.When
8) When rice is done, add beans and additional beer as necessary. Cook until beans are hot and add additional seasoning as desired.
9) Scoop into mess kits, add cheese and crumbled chips.

Food Hiatus

Even food-blogs need to go on vacation sometimes.

Plum-Apricot-Nectarine-Blueberry-Peach Lavender Crumble

One evening Marvelous M and Super C invited a goat for dinner.

The two were unsure as to what a goat would like to eat, but decided to play it by ear. Marvelous M had just gone to the Morningside Heights farmer's market that day and returned with pints of little yellow, orange and red cherry, grape and pear tomatoes, and a few verdant zuchinni and bright yellow squash. A fresh bunch of earthy smelling basil was her brilliant after thought.

Marvelous M and Super C put together a simple pasta of the colorful tomatoes and basil with marinated artichoke hearts and fresh parmesan on top. The squash and zuchinni they sauteed in a white wine vinegar of rosemary, thyme and lavender.

All was merry, all was in season. The chefs drank wine together with the goat and had interesting conversation.

And then they brought out the fruit crumble.

The goat gasped with delight.

For they had done it - fruit crumble was his favorite dish.

The special thing about this fruit crumble was that it had not one or two, but a multitude of pitted fruits and berries. Italian plums, apricots, nectarines, blueberries and peaches filled the dish beneath a crust of brown sugar and a European chefs' high-quality cooking butter. A thick and oozing syrup of golden orange and muted purple fruit juices bubbled beneath the decadent topping.

The trio dished their servings. They ate. They were overjoyed.

And there was one more surprise.

"Delicious. What is that delightfully aromatic flavor floating just above the sweet fruits and melting crumble?" the goat wondered out loud.

"It's lavender!" both Marvelous and Super shouted triumphantly, for they had made the goat happy.



What's in season - August:

Tomatoes
Basil
Squash
Plums
Nectarines
Blueberries
Peaches

Specialty Ingredient:

Culinary Lavender*

*Note: can be found in specialty gourmet stores, sometimes your local grocery store in the spice aisle, or can be ordered online

Red Hook Ballfields

I rode bikes with Ryan W. down into Red Hook on a recent muggy-hot Saturday. From under the Brooklyn-Queens Expressway, past the old factories, down the pot-holed streets and through somewhat dilapated housing, a magical land of white and blue canopies on the edge of a soccer field comes into view. Griddles and coolers are everywhere. Hotness and sweat. People, kids, birthday parties, balloons. Spanish chatter. Serious soccer game. Simple and amazing food. It looks like a giant family picnic, but the good news is that everyone is invited.

This is the kind of food experience that requires a little bit of orientation. It looks slightly chaotic with people in lines and not in lines. Every tent seems to be a different Latin American country. We decided to visit the El Salvador canopy, which was by far the most popular-looking, as determined by the long line. There was a forever wait under the canopy with the hot griddles blowing smoke and toasting our already sweaty and hungry selves. A small, fleeting suffering to pay for the comestibles. Plus the women preparing and cooking the food were unquestionably twenty times more hot than we were. Ryan made the genius move of getting a mango-on-a-stick to share for the line waiting. The ripest, sweetest mango I've ever had in this town. For $7 (both of us) we shared queso and jalapeno pupusas - the fried corncakes of El Salvador - with salsa and pickled cabbage on the side, and a sweet pile of platanos with frijoles and cream. One dollar for a sweetly chilled Coco helado on the way out and life has never been better.

The vendors have been at the ballfields every Saturday and Sunday for a long time - the one we went to, since 1990. After excitedly telling some friends about this food mecca, I heard numerous casual rumors that the vendors would be forced to leave if not in compliance with NYC Department of Health. If this happened, something very good about Brooklyn would be gone. Like the rug suddenly ripped out from beneath. The only thing I can do is to go back again this weekend, get the grilled corn, some empanadas and share the love with my friends.

Red Hook Ballfields
Clinton and Bay Streets
Red Hook, Brooklyn

Birthdays with Hot Dog and Mustard

There is not usually much fanfare around my birthday for a couple of reasons. One - It's in the middle of the summer, which seems to create a dog days-related void around celebrating, what with people in and out of town. Two - Birthdays mostly end up being kind of disappointing, something I think we can all relate to. However, I am a Leo, and Leos, according to their astrological qualities, love to be the center of attention. That should mean throwing giant birthday parties every year, along with the desire to have lots of adoring fans present.

This year I indulged in more Leoness than usual, and with Trish, we threw a combo birthday BBQ party for ourselves in Prospect Park.

We grilled burgers, kebabs and hotdogs. We made potato salad and deviled eggs. Our friends brought a huge amount of food and beer and wine. But this was not the main food effect. The food, in fact, was quite overshadowed by our party mascots - the hot dog and mustard.



Trish's costumed friends exhibited huge and brave amounts of Leoness, leaping joyfully through the park grass as children chased them around, tugging at their costumes and posing for pictures snapped by their parents. Children were not mystified by the hot dog and mustard beyond the innocent question of, "Where is the Ketchup?". They were not weirded out, but immediately intrigued. The hot dog and mustard were loved by our party guests, too, as with command and expertise they refereed our field day games - the icing on the Sunday-BBQ-cake in the park. We willingly let the duo direct our relays and sack races and egg-on-a-spoon. They clarifed rules. They told us when to go and stop. They transitioned us between games. They were joyful. They were fun.

So the hot dog and mustard are no longer just a classic American comestible to be thrown on the grill and then gobbled down. They are the life of the party.

The little, expensive things

Saffron, lavender and white truffle oil. Out there floats a lot of criticism about gourmet foods and ingredients. But let's be fair. Sometimes the right gourmet ingredient will literally knock your socks off. Recently several key ingredients have shown up at my door step.

Lavender: After an extensive search for culinary lavender, which was finally located at the classic Upper West Side gourmet store Zabar's, Meredith and I made a Cherry-Lavender cake for Ann's summer garden party. Some previous research on cooking with lavender revealed that we might not be able to just pick lavender stalks from a garden, but that certain types are cultivated and harvested especially for cooking. We indulged in all parts of the making process - zesting the sunshine-yellow lemons, pitting the ripe, dark magenta cherries and sprinkling in the grey-blue lavender buds. Such color, such texture, such aroma and joy!






The end product was somewhat flatter and more pancake-like than we expected; therefore we will reveal the recipe following some more testing. I have been informed by the food blogger source of the recipe that cake baking is a chemical art and process and thus it must be done exacting and carefully.We were baking very late at night, so another go at the cake is worth it.


Saffron: What is this mysterious and whispy dark-pumpkin colored spice? I still don't know. With it, Trish made a rice with shrimp and chicken sausage. It was delicious, of course, though we were trying really hard to distinguish and appreciate the saffron flavor and aroma from everything else. Going in I knew basic things about saffron: it's expensive, aromatic and lends a distinct golden color to foods. All facts have been checked. It cost Trish $18.00 for a little envelope of the crimson threads, which were locked away in the back room of a store. Saffron is serious business. It comes from the saffron crocus, which yields only three threads per flower. Also true is that it has an international grading system for quality. The chemical composition appears to be very complex and makes up it's flavor, dye qualities and aroma. And this spice has been used medicinally for thousands of years. What we know now is that saffron has a history. We did not know this when eating the rice.

White truffle oil: Unlike saffron, there is no need to look up the history and context of white truffle oil. Its hugely intense, earthy aroma speaks for itself. Alix and I used it to make what we call our most refined dish yet. We almost staggered under the weight of sheer eating pleasure.

Orzo with White Truffle Oil

Orzo, cooked
Marinated sun-dried tomatoes, chopped finely
Pine nuts, toasted
green beans, fresh from garden, trimmed, blanched and cut
1 tsp white truffle oil

Directions: Mix all ingrediants together in proportions to your liking.

A gift from fellow foodie Joe, this truffle oil is part of a 90-ish day recipe challenge, after which the oil is supposedly is no longer fresh.

Specialty Ingredient:

Culinary Lavender
Saffron
White Truffle Oil

What's in Season - June:

Green (string) beans (June - October)

We ate Acapulco: Food and Politics

Vacation in Mexico with the van Fleet brothers - what more could a girl ask for? Margaritas, sun, good food and company. Simple. Except the travel books that Ryan and I had doggedly studied all had disclaimers for Acapulco, concluding that, "She's a diva past her prime". In the fifties Acapulco tourism was defined by its small hotels built on the cliffs overlooking the bay, Pacific landscape and the city. Then the new, huge all-inclusive resorts on the beach came in.

The brothers and I spent a timeshare week at the Grand Mayan, one of these mega-complexes and lived like pseudo Mayan royalty, tanning and sipping the daily fruity cocktail by the pool. This was by day. By night, we left resort-land, making a good effort to find our food experiences by asking taxi drivers and the resort staff for recommendations. The travel books could not be trusted, because they generally led us to the turistico and "international" places we were trying to avoid.

First, travel with us outside the resort, beyond the "largest golf course in Mexico" and "biggest pool in the world." Looming ahead is a mammoth Super Wal-Mart and a bit further down the road mixed in with the Acapulcan madness is a McDonald's, KFC, and Starbucks. You have to wonder what places like Acapulco would look like if at least in the food realm they were left to evolve independent of middle-America eating and buying.

But, this is as far as I'll go with the editorializing on tourism and local economies and will let the food and politics speak for itself.


La Lomita and La Tejamil: When we told our cab driver we wanted to go to La Lomita, he told us he'd wait for us in the taxi while we ate. Cabs didn't pass by these restaurants outside the boundary of Acapulco tourism. In fact, we drove several miles down roads in very poor neighborhoods - the sturdiest structure for miles had been the ubiquitous Coca-Cola factory, standing prisonous with armed guards in front. La Lomita was completely deserted at eight in the evening. They weren't serving food. Next door, La Tejamil looked the same, but they were open. The brightly painted pavilion was emtpy but for us, crickets chirping outside, neighborhood dogs barking, and crazy game shows on the TV. What we later learned, after some deliciously strong margaritas, salty queso fundido, fresh guacamole, "little birds" and fish tacos and was that los jueves and los domingos are the days and nights to go to both places for lively music and lots of food and people. We never did make it back for los jueves, so to us it remains a food mystery unsolved, and we are left to imagine how fantastic it must be.

La Tortuga: By far the best place where we ate, and in fact we went twice. It's nicely tucked away into a hillside away from all the hustle and bustle. It's a space in which you don't know exactly where it begins and ends - there are no walls but one, and tables strewn about on the bi-level patio under fauna and outdoor ceiling fans. It's a quiet and happy place. Our server was very kind and attentive and remembered us the second time we came. We shared combination platters with tostadas, enchiladas, chiles rellenos, guacamole, and frijoles. The sopa de tortilla was a meal on it's own, chiles just over the brim of comfortably spicy, cooled off with slices of avocado and melted cheese. Then out came the helado coco (coconut ice cream) with toasted coconute flakes and drizzled with a coffee liqueur. Sigh. We also had this marvelous liqueur in our coffee. This was the closest we came to food heaven the entire week.


La Perla/La Quebrada: On a day of sightseeing around the city, our cab driver took us to La Quebrada, the cliffs where for over fifty years divers have jumped from daring heights into treacherous sea water. And this is good entertainment, so we watched from a hotel restaurant built into the cliffs, drinking cervezas and eating tacos with a bird's eye view of the spectacle. It was food with a view.

It's true that the diva is well past her prime, but she can create an amazing food effect.



La Tortuga Restaurante-Bar
Avenida Lomas Del Mar 5
Acapulco, MX 39690, GRO
Since 1960
Tel. 52-744-4-84-69-85

Liz's June Wedding

Midway through June was cousin Liz's wedding in Cleveland. The twenty-something cousins had already predicted who would be married first within our bunch, and Liz was not the first we had guessed. But at times the best thing about families is the "who knows?" unpredictability. The extended family converged for the affair, starting the Thursday before with a food party for the soon-to-be newlyweds. All guests brought a dish and recipe to share = tables of food. We met a lot of new people through their food. Groom Jason's grandma was my favorite - the way she simply, yet exquisitely described a two-ingredient sloppy joe and waldorf salad made me wish she had a cooking show I could watch every day.

So food is the great social integrator at weddings.

At the food party, my sister and I ran a smoothie station and blended a few original fruity creations. Teresa capitalized on her smoothie-making skills gained during her famous college-years stint at the Orange Julius in the mall. Especially popular at the party was the Magic Mojito (and it was good even without the rum!)- all recipes can be found below.


The Sunday after the wedding, Liz and Jason were already on their cruise ship ready to sail out into the Caribbean and our family was playing croquet and prepping for an after-party and Father's Day picnic in Auntie MJ's and Uncle Don's backyard.

Family picnics are great casual affairs where lounging, eating and talking are the primary activities. We got stuffed on Italian sausages in toasted rolls that were topped with roasted red peppers, onions and spicy mustard. Auntie MB's rosemary potato salad had me swooning under the fragrance, and we grilled some corn smothered in chili-lime butter for twenty people, all on a little hibatchi.




Following were some s'mores and Liz's homemade birthday cake for Teresa and Anthony. The bride even took time to bake her cousin a birthday cake - amazing. It was a fluffy white cake with a mysterious lump of chocolate in the middle - delicious! Still full, though wanting more family fun and food, Dad took me to the airport so I could get back to NYC in time to catch my flight to Mexico, thus setting us up for the next food episode.

Sister Smoothies*

Magic Mango & Mint Mojito
1/2 can of Limeade concentrate
1 cup of Seltzer
1 sliced Mango
1-2 sprigs of Fresh Mint
1 1/2 cup Ice
Blend!

Love Monkey
1 1/2 cups of Chocolate Soymilk
2 sliced Bananas
1-2 teaspoons of Honey
1 cup of Ice
Blend!

Smooth Sailin'
1/2 cup of Sliced Strawberries
1/2 cup of Sliced Pineapple
1 1/2 cups of Orange Juice
1-2 teaspoons of Honey
1 1/2 cups of Ice
Blend!

*Adjust proportions of ingrediants to your liking.*

*Rum can be added to any of these if you need to feel extra smooth.*



Grilled Corn with Chili-Lime Butter

If done right, this corn will take you to new heights in flavor. The trick is to do an initial smother of the mixture, grill it, then spread on some more with an extra squeeze of fresh lime juice.

Fresh corn (husked)
1-2 Sticks of butter
1-2 Limes
Chili Powder

Directions:
1. Soften butter in microwave. In bowl with butter, squeeze in the juice of one lime. Sprinkle in chili powder to your taste. Blend.

2. Spread on corn ears. Grill and turn until golden brown.

3. Spread another layer of chili-lime butter on corn and squeeze on a little more fresh lime juice.

Getting Sogged

I got sogged today. Twice. You might not know what that means right away, but it's happened to all of you. The bread product of whatever you're eating - usually some variety of sandwich - gets totally soaked by the wet ingredients. It becomes lumpy, doughy paste and is inedible. Tomatoes are often a prime sogger, as are dressings and condiments. And once your food is sogged, the entire thing is a complete waste. So who wants to eat sog?

The first major sog I recall: Many years ago my friend Nicole and I ordered a pizza that had not only tomatoes, but I believe pineapples also, on top. She told me this was a winning combination and I believed her. But the pizza arrived sogged. Soppingly sogged. Those are two very wet ingredients and no attempt was made on behalf of the pizza folks to mitigate that. Not only that, but the cheese had slid off one half of the pizza and onto the next. Did the pizza guy trip coming up the stairs? It was just unacceptable. So we ordered a new pizza, cheese in tact, but still sogged.

There have been many episodes in between that have just put me in a foul mood. I used to get regularly sogged by the deli near Central Park during office lunch breaks. It was the oil and vinegar. No one else in the lunch bunch ever had the same problem...

Today I was first sogged at lunch by a stromboli. The top crust was brown and crispy, and nice little broccolis, peppers and mushrooms were peeping out among the melted cheese. I sat on a sunny bench near the park and got very excited about my lunch. But just past the top layer of crunch and beneath the vegetables was a bottom layer of 100% sog. I was grossed out. Lunch was over. I considered going to the store and getting cookies instead. Guilty party: the tomato sauce. But who doesn't want tomato sauce with their stromboli? Next time it goes on the side and is for dipping and sog control.

Dinner time comes and I am sogged once again. You wouldn't think it's such a frequent problem in a food city like NYC, but anything is possible. This time it was a cheeseburger. Ryan and I met around Lincoln Center after work with the intention of camping out in Barnes & Noble and reading every travel guide they had on Acapulco (in preparation for our upcoming trip!) But we were hungry and went to the first place we could see from the fountain at Lincoln Center. This is PJ Clarke's a satellite of the famous burger-seafood-steak place on the east side that's been around since 1894. Attracts a mix of season tickets-theater-goers, after worksters and tourists. We discovered that most of the tourists appear to be seated on the lower (basement) level while the "New Yorker" types are placed in the front windows open to the sidewalk. Amazing. Back to the sog. I ordered a burger, fries and a beer, was really feeling those three things, and unwittingly got sogged by my burger. This time I believe it was the pickle juice puddled on the plate. Without pause I asked for a new bun and then ate my excellent (if not overpriced) de-sogged burger.

And in the bookstore we learned nothing new about Acapulco than we hadn't already known. It had it's Hollywood, classy heyday back in the 40's and 50's, moved past the gritty, polluted 80's and now is a "diva past her prime", nightlife-oriented non-stop beach scene. I can't help thinking we'll still have fun...and have some incredible eats.

As for the above speech - it's all to keep this world sog-free!

Grandma's Cookies

Michelle brought these to book group and we couldn't stop eating them. You will not get the recipe for Michelle's Grandma's cookies here, because I did not get it either. She is not giving it away. But they are exactly what a homemade chocolate chip cookie should be: moist and chewy, with nice chunks of chocolate. A little salty, a little sweet. Thin, so you think 3 cookies = 1 cookie. I think I ate 7, but Erin ate in the teens, she claimed.

Grandma's cookies are rare in our world of comestibles. I'm thinking about where my recipes come from, and it's normally a good search on the internet. Maybe from a cookbook. I definitely don't have any recipes from a Grandma. Or many from Mom or Dad. For the book group, I made Libby's Funky Bean Healthy Bean Salad, but I have no idea who Libby is, or how she came up with such a funkalicious side dish. I found it on vegweb.com. So what's the emotional tie to food? Grandma's cookies are so wonderful, partly because they are the perfect specimen of cookie and partly because of the story attached. Partly because of the value - the recipe was passed down and is therefore slightly mysterious. Only certain choice people can make Grandma's cookies happen again in this world.

There is Dad's Stuffing - every Thanksgiving he makes two batches - one that is sweet, one savory. The recipe is not a secret exactly; you can watch him make it. But he will not give you a tutorial. All I know is that you end up with two huge foil roasters full of stuffing that are best eaten with either a) a scoop of Cool Whip (the sweet) or b) a ladle of gravy (the savory). (The gravy is a semi-mysterious herbed and flavorful concoction suited to drizzle over the entire plate of Thanksgiving. Also a recipe that is not a secret, but neither is it blatantly advertised).

So maybe I'm not making Dad's Thanksgiving Stuffing now in life, nor am I trying too hard observe closely, but maybe I will later. It's Dad's now. Maybe Grandma's cookies and Dad's Stuffing are less about the food and recipe itself and more about the people who cook it...the food that makes us crave the people we love.

The Long Lunch

Does the long lunch exist in the United States? I would say, barely. Too often you hear the New Yorker people announce, almost proudly, they are way too busy to have lunch out and instead eat at their desks while still working. I do that too, but not proudly. Only because most of the year it's too cold/uncomfortable in NYC to go out and eat lunch in the park. It's a shame, because it seems the lunch-at-desk norm says something bad about your identity as a "worker" - so everybody ends up skipping lunch entirely or minimizing it's importance in the day. Well. I think that's so wrong. I've already had two outside cafe lunches this week.

I used to work near Central Park, and lunch was an Event. A nice group of us would begin the lunch process by setting up an AOL chatroom to decide where to go and what time to meet at the elevators. When the warm weather started, the topic of the chatroom became your deli sandwich order. A lunch designee put in the group order and 15 minutes later we picked it up from the deli, walked over to the park and found the best rock from which to eat and watch the broadway softball teams play. Then we'd all kind of lounge on the rocks and sunned like turtles. I happened to have a strict 30 minute lunch limit, so while everyone else was still sunning, I had to grudgingly run back to the office to avoid getting in trouble. I have to say I broke that rule as much as possible. Until of course the office tattletale (lunch hater?) prompted my boss to speak directly to me about it...

Now I happen to work in a neighborhood where lovely cafes and restaurants abound, and when the good weather starts, the chairs and tables come out onto the little slivers of sidewalk. Meredith and I enjoyed a leeeeeisurely lunch at Max Caffe today, sharing two kinds of the crusty panini oozing with roasted vegetables and cheese. Eggplant and roasted red pepper, mozzarella, roasted zuchinni and gorgonzola. Max Caffe is a good place to experience lunch like the rest of the world does. People are actually drinking wine and Italian beers. You sit there in the half sun and shade, and refills of your water glass keep coming after you're done eating. One of our Morningside Heights colleagues ran into us there and ordered some afternoon chocolate gelato. Good reason to stay 10 minutes more. We practically had to put a search party out to get the check.

My advice is to not feel a bit guilty. Go on a long lunch.

The Grilled Cheese Sandwich

The grilled cheese experience has come in many flavors in my life. And it's always paired with tomato soup. I don't have any deductive clue as to how this became the standard, but it inarguably works. We'll start with the absolute worst, but indulgent best of grilled cheese - the school cafeteria-white bread-american "cheese" type of sandwich. Paired with thinned out pseudo-tomato soup. And Oyster crackers. Blech - I cringe to think of it now, but in the days of my public school youth, that was the day to get hot lunch.

Then I found out that grilled cheese could actually be quality upon eating the antithesis of the school lunch variety. My Western Maryland hometown had a restaurant called Gandalf's where all the college-hippy and professor types went for delicious-healthy food. This grilled cheese had big, thick multi-grain bread and your choice of two cheeses melting inside, plus caramelized onions, pickles and tomatoes, if you wanted it delux. It was three inches thick. And the accompanying soup, African peanut stew, was a thick and nutty blend of tomatoes and peanut butter. $5 combo. Very unfortunately, Gandalf's caught fire, thus the end of the very high point of grilled cheeses for me.

Now Nathan has brought me to a restaurant in the city that's entirely dedicated to grilled cheese - Say Cheese. We went there last weekend after spending nearly an hour on the phone, hungry, and deciding where to eat for dinner. Don't ask me how we ended up with grilled cheese after deciding on French, but there we were at the edge of the Manhattan earth, the lone diners on Saturday night, in what is probably a hot Hell's Kitchen lunch spot. Kind of like a surreal episode of the last lunchers. It was no Gandalf's. But it was delicious. And they treated us better than the French restaurant would have. The sandwiches are pressed in a grill and oozing the filling. Mine had jack cheese, onions, and roasted red peppers. We shared the very good tomato-cheddar soup.

Long live the grilled cheese!

Say Cheese!
649 9th Ave (Between 45th and 46th Sts)
Hell's Kitchen, New York
212-265-8840

Cookin' In: Quinoa and Chocolate

The Alix and Christine show could be quite the hit. That is, if you'd like to watch two ladies drink wine, talk, cook and eat for hours on end. I think I was home by 4:00 am.

We decided to simplify the meal, knowing a complex recipe could really slow our leisurely pace even more. Made a Quinoa salad with fresh corn, black beans, red pepper, lime and cilantro. Quinoa is evidently one of the more perfect foods as far as nutrients and protein go. The Aztecs were cooking it 6000 years ago, yet it's still hard to get in your typical grocery store. If you've never had it, the texture is somewhat grainy, somewhere between rice and cous cous. But it's officially a seed and not a grain.

Along with the quinoa, we made tacos with sauteed portobello and green peppers, fresh homemade salsa, and avocado. Light, spring fare, made to save room for the chocolate course from The Chocolate Room.

I had no idea chocolate, herbs and fruits could live by perfect symbiosis in one little chocolate.

Around midnight we methodically and slowly enjoyed an entire plate of chocolate. To describe it is to be one with the chocolate. Among the sensuous bites: Caramel and lavender in dark chocolate, passion fruit and ginger ganache, coconut truffle in toasted coconut, white chocolate ganache with Grand Marnier, apricot basil ganache in milk chocolate, passion fruit ganache in white chocolate, mint ganache with bitter chocolate pieces, red chile and tangerine ganache, and strawberry, lemon and thyme ganache.

We ate all of the above.

I don't know what I will do while Alix is gone traveling for an entire month. Go to chocolate school, perhaps.

The Chocolate Room
86 5th Ave (between St. Mark's and Warren St)
Park Slope, Brooklyn
718-783-2900
www.thechocolateroombrooklyn.com

Kitchenette

If you want urban farmhouse food, Kitchenette is the place. Gingham, pink, flowers, cookies and cupcakes - there, you are surrounded by all of those things. That's about as farmhouse as you can get in the middle of the city.

Ryan and I had a recent Sunday brunch there, sitting on bar stools at the counter and staring directly at the frosted layer cakes at eye level display. I had a fantastic omelet with turkey, pepper jack and apples, along with a delicious biscuit smothered in pink strawberry butter. The most adorable brunch you have ever eaten. The brunch menu is overwhelmingly packed with homey-sounding things like mixed-berry pancakes and cottage breakfast (scrambled eggs with bacon and cheddar and dill onion toast). Soups are great, and sandwiches are always overstuffed and flavorful. You will leave with a Belly-ette.

There are two locations, one downtown in TriBeCa and one in Morningside Heights, so whenever I'm feeling indulgent and leisurely, I take my lunch there and bring a cookie back to work.

Kitchenette Uptown
1272 Amsterdam Ave (between 122nd and 123rd Sts)
Morningside Heights, New York
212-531-7600

Kitchenette
156 Chambers St. (and Greenwich St)
TriBeCa, New York
212-267-6740

Friends who can cook

Chef Verlander of the East Village cooked up a beautiful feast in celebration of Sebastian's birthday and Edith's housewarming.

The menu:

Antipasti: Cured meats (S Daniele Proscuitto, Spanish Lomo, Genoa Salami), Olives, Marinated Roasted Peppers, Roasted asparagus, Marinated mushrooms, Caprese

Insalata: Arugula and Mesclun with pears, toasted walnuts, with Roquefort and Dijon vinegarette

Pasta: Pappardelle Bolognese, sauce made with skirt steak, pancetta, ground pork shoulder

Formaggi: Four-year aged Gouda, Humboldt Fog Goat Cheese, Fromager Des Clarines

Dolce: Ice Cream Cake!

I wouldn't mind if Chef Verlander opened up a restaurant - all food was superb. And he sure does not look Italian, but if you were at the table blindfolded, you would think Nonna had made the Pappardelle Bolognese. Absolute perfection.

Double Feature: Bar Toto and Burger Joint

Well, should I get the urge, I know who to call to grab a burger. Carlos and I have had a couple of great burgers lately. But we need to soon eat some salad to thus avoid major growth in the tummy region.

Bar Toto is the place to go on a nice spring or summer night when you can sit on the patio forever drinking white wine and eating panini burgers. It's a relaxed brasserie atmosphere inside, and if the doors are open, and breeze is coming through, life is perfect. Big mirrors and windows, cool little black and white tiles, and the buzzing sound of people enjoying themselves. It definitely feels like a neighborhood spot, and you see the owner saying a lot of hellos throughout the evening.

The panini burgers are fantastic. Toto burger is gorgonzola and red onion between a crispy, grilled flat bread. Big stack of thin crispy fries. I've rarely been beyond the burger, but the rest of the menu is mostly pasta and panini and some great-sounding antipasti and ensalate.

Upon departing, the Toto effect sets in and you must walk very slowly back up the Slope.

Bar Toto
411 11th St. (at 6th Ave)
Park Slope, Brooklyn
718-768-4698
www.bartoto.com

Burger Joint is another planet. My co-workers and I first "discovered" this place when working one night we experienced a mass burger craving. Googling for burgers in the Columbus Circle neighborhood will leave you almost dry except for here. We had the address but wandered up and down the block looking and asking around until a concierge pointed us to Le fancy pants Parker Meridien Hotel.

If you are suitcaseless, they might look at you funny, but walk confidently past the front desk to the floor to ceiling curtains in the lobby, which conceal a burger joint, circa timeless mid-West. Turn right at neon burger sign. Wood paneling, movie posters, good music, burger flippers with attitude. The menu is hamburger, cheeseburger, french fries, shake. They have 1-2-3 instructions on how to best order: hamburger or cheeseburger, how you want it cooked and what you want on it. Don't mess with the system.

It's all super delicious. They have won many awards. I've known people to become addicted and find themselves going back again and again.

Burger Joint
119 56th St (between 6th and 7th Aves)
(in Le Parker Meridien lobby)
Mid-town West, New York
212-708-7414

photo: Carlos

Where am I eating? Milan's...

Michelle, Christian and I crossed the Park Slope boundary into Sunset Park on 5th Ave and went to one of the only Slovakian/Czech restaurants in the city. Outside, we had one of those great moments where the group pauses and debates (mentally and with each other) about whether to go in.
We went in.

None of us could have dreamed up this place. Actually, we better shake out of the Park Slope brainwash because separately we had all imagined a trendy German place, 5th ave style, dark wood tables and bar with perhaps a log cabin-like interior. Thought I might mingle a little with 20-somethings neighborhood folk at the buzzin' bar.

It was all green inside - green walls, green floors, green checkered tableclothes. Briiight lights. We were the only customers. All the Milan "Guys" were at the congregated at the back table.

I think Milan himself waited on us. He brought out heavy, saucy, dense foods. Luckily it had been raining all day and we were all set for the stick to your ribs type of food. Michelle said that Christian's stuck to him for most of the weekend. We had potato pancakes, goulash, saurkraut, potatoes, meat, and dumplings - which are not what you think but is in fact steamed bread. And we had Czech beer. We all liked the beer.

Buuut, the food is not for everyone. However, if you are a fan, this place has been reviewed favorably for certain dishes. Supposedly, when in town, famous Slavs go there to eat.

Milan's
710 5th Ave (between 22nd and 23rd Sts)
Sunset Park, Brooklyn
New York
718-788-7384
http://www.milanrestaurantny.com/

We made gnocchi!

Alix and I are moving into new culinary dimensions with our cooking. First of all, we will eventually end up writing a cookbook highlighting various underappreciated foodstuffs. Parsnips will be the subject of the first chapter. We know of no others who like parsnips the way we do. Sometimes peppery, sometimes sweet, this root vegetable has been the subject of several of our email conversations. Oh, we are high caliber.

We made a parsnip soup combining a potato, a parsnip, a leek, and an onion. Root vegetable heaven.

Alix had suggested making a sweet potato gnocchi, which I would have assumed to be an all day cooking affair. But in fact, she mixed and rolled out the dough while I put together the soup. We had the gnocchi with a simple sauteed fresh spinach, garlic and tomatoes. And of course finished our meal and talking around 1:00 am. And this was partly because we began scheming for a summer cook-off event...oh, this will show up in your local newspapers...

And in other big news, after 10 weeks of physical therapy Alix can walk again!

Brazil and Cupcakes

Now that the weather is getting better, we're moving into hunting and gathering mode in the West Village. I'm not looking for berries, but in that neighborhood you're often looking for the "great restaurant" of which you are "pretty sure" of the location. It's like a fun food challenge.

Emilia was pretty sure she knew where the great Delicia Brazil was, one nice Friday evening. Sebastian and I followed our friend and her intuition through the streets until she found the tiny, basement level bungalow-esque Brazilian restaurant...somewhere around there.

We sat right down at prime time and had a GREAT meal. It was a long wait for the food. But if you are with good people and willing to drink caipirinhas while drawing with crayons on the paper tablecloth, then all is worth it. We were also entertained and paying very close attention to a table full of stunningly attractive Latin American men across the room. We found one for each of us without much trouble.

Our appetizer came by the time the real hunger set in. Pao De Quiejo - if you like bread and cheese married in one fluffy roll, this is perfect. For the main plate, I had Camarao Na Moranga - shrimp, onions, tomatoes, red pepper in coconut cream sauce over baked butternut squash. Oh, it was divine. They have other traditional Brazilian stews, and a prix fix that includes appetizer, main dish, and dessert.

On our way out of the West Village we stopped for midnight cupcakes at Magnolia Bakery, which in cupcake-craze land is famously one of the first places to really showcase the treat in NYC. According to my cupcake research, I find there are several other places in the city that are perhaps an outgrowth of the Magnolia genius. So, I will keep eating them. And I'm happy to forage in the West Village any time.


Delicia Brazil
311 W 11th St (between Greenwich and Washington Sts)
West Village, NY
212-242-2002

Magnolia Bakery
401 Bleeker St (and W 11th St)
West Village, NY
212-462-2572

From the archives: Malatesta Trattoria

I eat much faster than I write, therefore sometimes food experiences get backed up. This is good for a night like tonight, when it would be very boring for everyone to read about my leftovers. I can recall one of my last great meals and give you all a new restaurant to try.

So if you're not tired of hearing about Italian food, I will tell you about Malatesta. Nathan and I went there on a recent Sunday night.

Malatesta can be kind of fun to find, like a game of wandering 'round the tilted perpendiculars of the West Village. I mean, fun if you're not starving like Nathan was, but thankfully he has a good sense of humor and believes I will eventually lead him to good food. Enter the cozy, glowing oasis on the corner of Washington and Christopher Streets and have a seat. It's a buzzing atmosphere (how else do you describe people having a good time?) with at least one incredibly handsome waiter. He will give you extensive eye contact if you do the same.

We started with verdure alla griglia and a crostini misti with four different toppings - a funghi, gorgonzola, bruschetta and a proscuitto with fresh mozzarella. The gorgonzola had eye rolling qualities, meaning look slowly toward ceiling and wish you never had to swallow. We sipped on a carafe of Pinot Grigio and had our usual great conversation. Out came the pasta - I had a spinach gnocchi soaking in a sauce of that amazing gorgonzola. For dessert a perfectly light and creamy panna cotta with strawberry sauce. Nothing fancy, any of it, just really satisfyingly delicious. Afterward we somehow found our way back through the West Village again and spent several more hours at the favorite V Bar with the good wine, Lambic Framboise and perfect atmosphere. Here's to Sunday evening - may it never be spent in front of a television.

Malatesta Trattoria
649 Washington St and Christopher St.
West-West Village, New York
212-741-1207

Spring Italian Dinner Party - La Felice Vita!

Ann asked me to housesit and then encouraged me to throw a dinner party. She told me that her house has great party karma, and that, in fact, if I had a bad party it had to be my fault.

It was a very good party.

Once again we find there is something magic about putting a bunch of good people in a good space with food and wine. That, after all, is the food effect I have been trying to describe in entry after entry. I put together a fairly simple menu and invited the most charismatic and friendly people I know, asked them to bring wine and figured all would take care of itself. This was true.

Ann's house is big and at the same time cozy. The dining room is all warm, deep wood and goldenrod colored walls. Wonderful tiles with barnyard animals and vegetables line the kitchen and breakfast bar. Ann had told me no matter what, everyone would congregate in the kitchen and dining room, despite the other fantastic spaces.

Luckily, Emilia is now visiting from Rome, and she came over to help me prep the afternoon of the party. We chopped, pureed, mixed, sauteed, simmered, and talked and talked for hours, not believing the time had passed so quickly. My wonderful friends began rolling in after work and school, carrying in bottles of wine. Drinking and eating antipasti, everyone gathered near Ann's big, round wooden table, which was filled with crusty bread, fresh mozzarella, proscuitto, sopresseta, and verdure misti - zuchinni, yellow squash, carrots, and fennel - roasted with capers, garlic and olive oil, and bowls of two simple spreads of kalamata olives and sundried tomatoes, both floating in pools of a piney, herby and sweet olive oil. There was a huge ensalate of mixed greens, beets, cucumber, dill and green onions, with a olive oil, fresh garlic and lemon juice dressing.

Being hostess means one is not quite as carefree as the guests, but one still gets a nice bird's eye view of the whole scene. Every now and then I floated around and just listened to the great conversation, glad to hear that even the small talk was lively.

The pasta came out and the people all lined up. There were two pastas - one rotini with roasted red pepper, artichoke hearts, olives, mozzrella and fresh parsley. The other was a pasta primavera, a linguini with crisp green beans and asparagus, a light creamy sauce of parmaggiano-reggiano and pine nuts, and topped with fresh basil and grape tomatoes sauteed in balsamic vinegar and fresh garlic. I was not sure how to make pasta for 20 people, but it practically made itself.

The pasta and bread did not slow anyone down - the merriment continued when Ann's little poodle, Grace, came to visit, jump around and sniff about. I pulled the pears out of the oven, which had been roasting and simmering in butter, apple juice and brown sugar, dolloped them all with vanilla ice cream and watched everyone spoon feed themselves.

The trickling out of guests began around eleven, but the dinner party die-hards stayed until after four in the morning, when the tired hostess had to end the shenanigans only because she had to catch a train the next day.

La felice vita! Grazie, amici.

Party Styles

Chiles y Chocolate

I am very into food combinations, especially unlikely ones. To most, the idea of putting together chilies and chocolate in a suace is a strange one. But at a very fundamental level, you have the hot and the sweet coming together. And not just sitting in the same dish, but melding together in a most sensually complex way. And thus you have: mole.

Carlos and I had been wanting to try this new Oaxacan restaurant in Park Slope for some time now. Well, for a few weeks. But those weeks are interminable when mole is on the other end. Chiles y Chocolate is a tiny, narrow place that is painted entirely in the rich brown, almost mahogany, shade of mole. Tables are small and round, and we were lucky enough to sit on a pedestal in the window, overlooking the entire mole scene.


We started with the quesadillas antiguas with a vegetable filling of huitlacoche ragout (smoky little mushrooms) and nice, melty cheese. We ordered two entrees to share, the mole negro and a mahi mahi with chipotle, chocolate and mango salsa. My mahi mahi came from the platos modernos side of the menu and Carlos's mole from the platos tradicionales side. I have to say, tradition is far superior to modernity in this case. The fish and its sauce sounded potentially amazing, and had beautiful presentation, but ultimately tasted like not much of anything.

But the mole.

It defies description.



Just go there and consume it.

For dessert we had tamales dulces with oaxacan chocolate and raisin filling. Oh, wow. And wash that down with the namesake chiles y chocolate drink with chipotle essence spread lightly on the inside of the cup. The sweet and spicy goes on forever at this place.

Chiles y Chocolate
54 7th Ave and Lincoln Place
Park Slope, Brooklyn
718-230-7700

Photo credits: Carlos

Thursday is the new Friday

Thursday was one of those great nights of food, drink and perfect company. And I had all my fun within a 5 block radius. After work Ann took me to Al di La for a glass of wine - I can't wait to go back there to eat. It's one of those neighborhood places - everyone knew Ann and the staff is super friendly. Of course, she is the poster child for Al di La after appearing in the picture accompanying the NY Times review last year. They don't take reservations and are very small, but their new wine bar helps prevent the people back up during dinner. While sipping our marvelous whites Ann pointed out some of her favorites on the dinner menu - more to come on this fine place of Northern Italian food. Then we walked over to her house so I could get the low-down on house and poodle sitting, and the pots, pans and utensils I'll be needing for my upcoming Italian Spring Dinner Party! I have to say, the setting will be perfect for feasting and friends.

I then ran over a couple blocks to Rose Water on Union St, to meet Alix and Livy for another Brooklyn restaurant week pick. It was not easy to get a normal reservation time for dinner, but Alix had managed to do so. Rose Water focuses on American Nouveau - seasonal, local, organic and satiating taste buds. We started with a WONDERFUL white German wine, of which I've forgotten the name (anyone want to sponsor my wine education?) and absolutely superior bread, a little saltiness on the crust and dipped in olive oil and a fantastic white bean spread - the most nuanced of flavors.

For the prix fixe, there was an impressive array to choose from - I started with a chick pea stew, which included a giant, flavorful cheese-stuffed falafel. Golden roasted chicken for my entree, with sweetly sauteed mushrooms - I was already getting too full to finish, but we then ordered dessert, sharing all three: a chocolate peanut butter cake, apple fritter, and a vanilla cheesecake...ohhhh, myyyy.


Then hopped down the block to Union Hall to meet Erin and Nick for a drink. Union Hall is enormous. Despite it's size, it's always packed. Of course, there are many diversions, including a music venue on the lower level and bocce court on the upper level. That's right - the twenty-somethings of Brooklyn evidently know their Bocce. It's a great place to hang out with your pals, with several areas of comfy seating and even a pseudo library and fireplace. A patio is on the side for those much anticipated summer days.

Ah, Thursday night. I think that explains why on Friday night I fell asleep to a movie rental...

Al di La
284 5th Ave (and Union St.)
Park Slope, Brooklyn

http://www.aldilatrattoria.com/

Rose Water
787 Union St (between 5th and 6th Aves)
Park Slope, Brooklyn
718-783-3800

Union Hall
702 Union St (and 5th Ave)
Park Slope, Brooklyn
718-638-4300
http://unionhallny.com/

Yuca Bar

I had eaten tons of food all weekend, but I'm glad Justin pressed for the Yuca Bar Sunday brunch. It's prix fixe for $12: brunch cocktail, coffee and a humongous plate of "pan-Latino" food. But that's not all. Yuca Bar is very good at atmosphere - it strikes what I think is a 1970's Cuban appeal. Everything inside has hues of golden yellow and orange - the walls, the pictures, the fresh orange juice, and the mimosas. Music is always good and usually Cuban. Justin's bloody mary was a work pop art - tall glass, deep red-orange juice with a vibrant green celery stalk and bright yellow lemon wedge suspended artfully.

I had a giant scrambled eggs burrito with jack cheese and bits of chorizo, fresh pico de gallo and guacamole on top, and yuca hash browns on the side. One cannot go wrong. We were very full at the end, so we started a nice long slow walk through the city, striving for the calmer parts so as not to disturb the digestive tract. Luckily, it was a warm and sunny day.

As soon as it turns Spring in New York the performance artists come out of the subways and into the parks. On our meander from the east to the west side, we had free entertainment everywhere. The real prize winner was probably the (ahem) talented young lady at Chelsea Pier who was singing her heart out about...it wasn't clear exactly. But it was passionate, without pause and improv Broadway-style, if there is such a thing. We, um, then decided it was time to head back to the train.

Yuca Bar: Cucina Latina
111 Avenue A (and 7th St)
East Village, New York
212-982-9553
http://www.yucabarnyc.com/

Assenzio - Tanti auguri a te!

I have an unfair affinity for Italian food. It cannot be helped. On Saturday we went to Assenzio, a Sardinian charmer in the East Village. I'm sorry that I forgot my camera for the whole of this food weekend, so I will test my descriptive writing skills.

I would camp out at Assenzio for a long time. Pitch a tent and eat the antipasti all day. Tables are all crammed together in a cozily lit room with light sea foam green walls and (probably) creaky wooden floors. Italian phrases scripted on the walls, with little candles lighting your way. You must go here. We were a good-sized party celebrating two birthdays, and we were lucky to get a table in a little alcove.

Our jubilantly tall Italian waiter taught us the Happy Birthday song in Italian and came to check on us many times. He was cheery, brought us good wine, and we had great fun.

The sun-dried tomato and olive oil spread on bread made me deliriously happy. I must try to replicate this. We shared lightly battered calamari and zuchinni with a tomato sauce for antipasti, along with a melted hunk of mozzarella between grilled slices of juicy portobello. For primi, I had a perfectly al dente fusilli with tuna, capers, and olives. Although I thought all together it would be very salty, it was in fact truly balanced. Dulci? We shared three among us: a pear tart, fried bananas crusted in cinnamon and sugar, and a chocolatey chocolate tort, all with gelato on the side for good scooping.

We walked over to Avenue C and in true birthday fashion, tried to go dancing. Maybe it was too much pasta, so we finally settled at Yum Schneider, a wonderful German bar. With a disco ball and stuffed animals perched in paper mache trees, it's certainly peculiar. But very nice and with a wide range of German beers and food. If only my pasta has not expanded, I would have sampled more...

Buon compleanno, Ryan and Brad!

Assenzio
205 E 4th St (between Avenues A and B)
East Village, New York
212-677-9466


Yum Schneider
229 E 7th St and Avenue C
East Village, New York
212-598-1098
www.yumschneider.com